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He shrugs his shoulders. “It wasn’t easy at first, but I’m used to it by now.”
“Some things people should never get used to,” I say quietly as I stare out the window at the passing scenery.
The business district gives way to smaller buildings, taking on a more casual vibe. “There it is,” George says, pointing to a small pizzeria as we approach it. “I can remember coming here since I was a child. It was my dad’s favorite place.”
After we park, George and I hoof it to the restaurant. The entrance is lit with brightly colored Christmas lights and a variety of Christmas decorations. A couple of young boys are out front throwing snowballs. One goes astray and hits George squarely in the chest. For a second, the boys all look horrified…until George molds up one of his own and lets it fly. After that, it’s on.
“Okay! Okay! Enough!” an older man yells laughingly as he emerges from the restaurant. “Let Georgie pass!”
I quirk an eyebrow at George. “Georgie?”
He gives me a somewhat abashed look. “Remember. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid.”
“That long, huh?” I quip, unable to stop myself, and am rewarded with a scowl.
The man approaches us. His hair is mostly gray and his mustache a bit unruly. A chef’s apron drapes his plump stomach, dotted with mishap samples from the menu of the day. He hugs George tightly, clearly fond of him. “It’s been too long!” He steps back, inspecting George from head to toe. “You’re too thin. Come in. We’ll fix that!”
George pulls me in to introduce me. “Franco, I would like you to meet Ivy.”
Franco opens his arms wide, taking me into a huge bear hug. “Welcome!” He grins mischievously at George and back at me. “I haven’t seen your man in many years. He has been stingy with his visits.”
I awkwardly tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Ummm, he’s not my man. I…”
“Ivy is a photographer,” George fills in smoothly for me. “I’ve asked her to do a professional portfolio for me. We’re squeezing in some nourishment while discussing the project tonight.”
Franco’s look is skeptical. “If I had a beautiful woman like this in my company, I would find something better to discuss than business.”
I feel the heat rushing to my face but simply smile. He’s such a sweet man. I can already see why this place is special.
Franco ushers us inside and to a table in the back, handing us each a menu. “Georgie, we have new Chianti. Let me give you both a complimentary sample while you decide what you want. We’ve added much since the last time you were here.”
George nods. “That would be wonderful. Thank you, Franco.”
Once Franco leaves, I lean forward playfully. “I believe you were just very kindly shamed for your lapse between visits, Georgie.”
“I’ve been busy,” he says as he opens the menu much like I am sure he opens a board report, hoping to regain the advantage. Too late.
I lay my menu aside. “This is your stomping ground. What do you suggest?”
His eyes take on a mischievous light. “How do you like heat?”
For a minute, I’m not sure what he means. George points to an item on the menu. “This pizza has every hot pepper the stomach can process. It’s always been my favorite.”
I laugh, realizing that I misunderstood him. “Then order it! I’m tougher than I look.”
While we’re waiting for our food, I try to dig deeper into the details of the job. “So, when do you want to do the shoot?”
George pulls out his phone to check his calendar. “I was thinking that maybe we could do some of the standard business photos Wednesday after my other meetings are finished. Perhaps we can do some of the more casual shots this weekend.”
I nod in agreement. “That sounds doable.”
When our pizza arrives, I can smell it before I see it, my eyes watering. Over the course of dinner, Franco comes to check on us periodically. Watching George with his dear friend, I decide to grab my camera to capture their friendship. George is a bit hesitant at first but grows used to me taking pictures. Somehow, I have a feeling this is a side of him very few people ever get to see.
When we leave, Franco gives me a big hug, insisting I come back soon to visit and again shaming George for his prolonged absence. As we leave, I glance at my watch. It’s almost nine. How did it get so late so quickly?
I look around our surroundings, trying to find the signs leading to the subway. George looks at me, puzzled as I hesitate. “What are you doing?”
I pause. “I’m not familiar with this area. I was looking for directions to the subway.”
